Random Short Stories

Price Of Entitlement [🪽]

In the heart of the sun-drenched town of Sunnyville, where meadows spread like emerald carpets and the scent of wildflowers wafted gently on the breeze, there lived a kittypet named Lady Felicity.

Felicity was no ordinary house cat; she was a striking mix of pure breed with fur so plush and immaculate that it gleamed like polished jade under the sun.

Her coat was a vibrant mosaic of vibrant oranges, deep blacks, and creamy whites, swaddling her in an aura of regality that she believed matched her inner magnificence.

From the day she was brought into her human's plush domicile, Felicity declared herself ruler of her realm, a self-appointed title that came with an expectation that all around her would bow and cater to her whims.

Her days were bursting at the seams with gourmet meals and imaginative playtimes which deemed her rightful prerogatives. Each meow from her soft throat was tinted with expectation, a self-centred melody that resonated with demands she issued to the other kittypets in her neighbourhood.

Born and raised within the comfort of soft pillows and warm laps, she had come to see herself as the pinnacle of feline joy. Her world was, after all, filled to the brim with luxury—silken collars adorned with sparkling gems and an endless supply of treats.

Her humans, the Blanchards, pampered her to the extreme. They provided her with the finest catnip toys, gourmet meals, and even a room filled with silk cushions.

But Lady Felicity's entitlement ran deeper than the gifts she was given; it was a belief that the world revolved around her desires.

With an air of superiority, she strutted through the Sunnyville neighbourhood, chin held high, expecting every passerby to acknowledge her presence and soak her with positive attention and praise.

Her fellow kittypets, however often cowered from her demanding demeanour, as she had a penchant for demeaning those who failed to meet her expectations. To her, all other felines existed merely to fulfil her endless requirements, like personal servants crafted in the form of mews and fur.

As a result, Felicity was entirely unaware of any world beyond her own home—a world inhabited by stray cats, insolent kittypets and wild fables, whom she considered unworthy of her attention.

She believed everything should cater to her desires, making the airy heaven of her mind as tangible as the grass underfoot. With that belief, she strode through her mundane existence with the elegance of a queen, demanding her whims be met by the lesser creatures around her.

She would often stomp through the neighborhood, demanding the best sleeping spots in the sunny window ledges, and growled at any cats who dared to sit on the same porch chair she favoured.

She treated the world around her like a vast banquet table—one that beckoned to be arranged according to her grand standards with little regard for the rest.

But the world outside Felicity's bubble teemed with complexities and a strange freedom that she chose to ignore.

Not far from Sunnyville lay the fabled, mist-shrouded island of the Northern Kingdom, home to the mythical species known as the cryptids, or, as they were so widely known as, the Valley Cats.

With gleaming feathers and scales cascading from their shoulder blades, these majestic creatures soared above the treetops and the crashing tides, the sheer embodiment of feline grace and mystical power.

Despite their impressive abilities, most of the Valley Cats rarely ventured into Sunnyville domain, preferring their secluded lives in the valleys that bathed in moonlight. They did not see the appeal in living pampered lives and preferred the freedom of the wild.